


Gears in Motion

by LetheAfterDark (LetheSomething)



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Erotica, F/M, Foreplay, Genderfluid Byleth, Light Bondage, M/M, Multi, Short One Shot, i haven't actually finished the Blue Lion route but i have a lot of feelings ok
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-30
Updated: 2019-09-30
Packaged: 2020-11-08 05:28:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 672
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20830163
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LetheSomething/pseuds/LetheAfterDark
Summary: A (very) short and tense erotica piece.





	Gears in Motion

With the grinding of well-oiled gears and a satisfying ‘click’, the cuffs closed around Byleth’s wrists.

“Dimitri?”  
Voice a breathless whisper, their eyes followed Dimitri as he placed the key on a table next to the bed, before he returned his gaze,  
and stilled.

“Are you comfortable?” he asked.

Byleth seemed to think for a moment, raising their head to look at the silver cuffs fastening them to a ring in the elaborately carved headboard.  
“I could probably break these,” they said.

Dimitri smiled, single uncovered eye closing in amused affection.  
“But you won’t,” he said.  
And he leaned down to place a single kiss on their throat. His hair tickled soft skin and he relished in the way their breath caught, the small twitch where they tried not to squirm, the *heat* of them.  
Byleth was notoriously hard to read, but the king knew what devotion looked like. He could feel it in the rise and fall of his partner’s chest, in the way their lips sought his as soon as there was an opening.  
Always the tactician, that one.

Dimitri sat back and thought he could just see a glimpse of a pout on Byleth’s face at his retreat.  
Their armor, ever-present, now lay discarded on a chair in the corner, leaving them with nothing but a shirt, slightly undone, and pants that were a gift yet to be opened.  
It was rare to see Byleth this vulnerable, this soft to the touch.  
There were a thousand things he could do to that pliable flesh, but their wide eyes looked up at him unafraid as ever.  
“You’re so beautiful,” he said, his tone deep and guttural and on the verge of cracking, “and you’re all mine.”

His hand slipped under their shirt, the rough pads on his palm and fingers catching skin as he slid across their abdomen and up their side.  
There was a sigh, soft and subdued but music to his ears nonetheless.  
“Do you like it when I touch you here?” he hummed and he pushed up their shirt to reveal goosebumps.

“That’s a strange question,” Byleth said. “You already know the answer to it.”

He smiled and leaned down until his breath ghosted over their body. “Tell me anyway.”

Byleth arched their back, as if trying to close whatever distance remained between them.  
“I do,” they said.

Satisfied with that answer, Dimitri proceeded to kiss the cold away.  
He pecked at Byleth’s skin, his large, rough hands holding them in place and slowly pushing up their shirt until their top half was clad in nothing but a slight blush.  
It was not enough. It would never be enough.  
He stroked their chest, he nipped at their throat, he caught Byleth in a long, deep kiss, all the while waiting, waiting until he could draw a moan from those sweet lips.  
He finally uncovered it when his roaming mouth found an earlobe and tugged on it gently.

“D-dimitri…”  
His name was spoken with a desperation rivalling that of a prayer.

He purred in their ear. “My love?”

“Dimitri, please.”

It was the hint of impatience, packed away in two tiny words, that sparked lightning through Dimitri’s blood and made his heart sing.  
“As you wish,” he said, and he moved down, his hands caressing a wistful trail on their way across Byleth’s skin.  
When he reached the button on their pants, Dimitri took his time, carefully removing layer after layer of clothing until Byleth lay bare before him, opened up like a lily flower catching the sun, full and plump in their splendour and, he noted with a gratification that spread fire through his body, glistening.

The king leant down and planted a kiss on their inner thigh.

“They say patience is a virtue,” he rumbled, and he relished in the shudder that ran through Byleth’s body.

“But I fear, my love,” he said as he brushed his lips upward, creeping ever closer to their core, “that try as I may, I am not a virtuous person.”


End file.
